Adaption and Stuff

We're almost across the Arabian Sea and into the Gulf of Aden. We go on 24
hour stern watches again tonight, and retard the clocks 1 hour- which
translates as an extra 40 minutes of sleep, 20 minutes more on my 12x4
watch, and then at 0400 I'll go to the stern until 0800. Sleep will fall
between 0800 and 1120, then again at 1600 until 1700 (as if), and finally
(after dinner) at 1745 until 2245. 2245 until 2315 in the pool and take a
shower. Then do it all over again.

Since my last post we have had hazy, overcast skies and monsoon rains-
visibility is right around 5 nautical miles with the binoculars. The ocean
has been "cloud-cover gray" to the horizon, with an "epic-dude cobalt-blue"
water that churns a powder blue.

Also, I picked up a an intestinal distress in Sri Lanka. S.O.S., dot dot
dot, dash dash dash, dot dot dot! One of these days I'm going to post a
"TMI Guy" tell-all about all the awkward *ahem* crap you never wanted to
know about being at sea.

I saw my first ever, actual, honest-to-god, flying fish today. After using
the chisel and needle gun in a confined space first thing in the morning (at
8, after working 6 hours already, of course), my job shifted to being a
remote switch for the pressure washer... which is to say, I had to stand-by
to throw a switch twice until knocking off for lunch. A job waaaaay too
good for an Ordinary, even when we're talking about The Extraordinary
Ordinary (yes, slowly my self-anointed nickname is sticking). Anyway, my
eyeballs were free to stare into the water sliding by at 20.5 knots and I
saw what I thought was a bird skimming the water down below me, until it
disappeared into the water and my slow-ass brain got around to processing
what it had just witnessed.

It was in the air for a remarkable amount of time! They do literally fly,
and for a great distance, too (hence the "flying" bit in their name). Their
short, stubby little bodies have sizable, translucent "wings" that look to
be clumsily adapted, as if they were in a hurry to evolve and decided to
skip all the design-review crap and do it in the least amount of time, for
the least amount of money, with no thought to enhancing the overall cohesive
image of the fish at all. And in every drawing of flying fish I saw as a
child they were pictured with big grins... I didn't actually see a grin (I
was looking down at him and couldn't see his face, after all), but I now
know why they're drawn that way- they just saved a bundle on evolution!

Anyway, I thought I would mention the "tools" of the trade for an
ocean-going commercial sailor. Just like carpenters carry hammers, tape
measures, and pencils in the aprons or belts they wear, sailors have a list
of tools they must carry at all times. When on the bridge for watchkeeping
all sailors carry a small flashlight (the dimmer the better), a knife,
sunglasses, and their keys (I add to that an alarm clock); and when on the
deck for day-work, all sailors carry a knife, small channel lock pliers, a
flashlight (bright), their keys, earplugs, air nozzle, safety glasses, water
bottle, and gloves. I have four pair of gloves, two knives, two
multi-tools, 3 types of eye protection for daywork, 3 pair of sunglasses for
watchkeeping... it's a sizable pile of crap.

I mention it because Laura has witnessed my daily beach-side ritual of
wandering around the house, patting various pockets on various parts of my
body, incanting my house-leaving spell: "Keys, Cell-phone, Wallet... Keys,
Cell-phone, Wallet..." That is some complicated math before coffee! But,
it is so much worse, now, with my absurd laundry list of crap, because if I
forget my bright flashlight I'll be down in the dark cargo holds. If I
forget my earplugs I'll be running a chipping hammer. If I forget my
channel locks I'll be dicking-around with fittings all morning. You should
see how bright the sun can shine down here near the equator when you forget
your sunglasses in your quarters and you're surrounded by mirror-like seas!


OK. I have crap to do, and so do you...